


We Are Ready

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, F/M, Friendship, Loyalty, Post-Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 09:37:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8157512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: Kili visits Tauriel in Dale for the first time since the battle. He has been assumed dead for months. Bard, his council and Tauriel have made plans.





	

 

 

 

It was some months after the great battle that there was a knock at the door of Dale's great hall. Bard was sat at the head of the table, quietly enjoying how happy his children were amongst the other guests. It was a celebration, after so much of Dale had finally been rebuilt and restored. There would be a full festival once the last work was finished. Bard had already toasted the long hard work of his people – it was still strange to call them that but Tauriel had pointed out that it was a fact he now could not escape. He was often forced to wear a crown, and how strange that still felt, that weight.

 

He was looked to by his people to guide and lead them after the dragon attack and battle with the Orcs. There'd been many arguments and grievings but he had talked to his children and had selected a council to bear the load with him and so had begun to oversee Dale's rebuilding. The people of Laketown, now of Dale, were building a home again and readying themselves, for many would arrive in the months ahead as word of the slaying of the Mountain's guardian travelled. It was a matter Bard's council spent many hours considering.

 

Now though, Bard was with his family, his council and several notable friends, those he was able to be both King and Bard the Bargeman with. It was not often enough, especially when Thranduil was not present. It'd been some months since their last meeting. Bard did not brood on such a fact (he didn't, despite how Sigrid teased him gently of the fact), not tonight when his children looked so happy and so much had been achieved in Dale. It was a night they had all earned. And Thranduil was due to visit before the blossom turned once more.

 

Tauriel was at his left, eating and observing, talking quietly to Bard's children. There was no other Bard would trust with their safety. She was still banished from Mirkwood but had proved herself more than loyal and skilled so Bard had accepted her as his guard and as part of Dale. She and Thranduil rarely communicated when Thranduil visited. It didn't please Bard at all, in fact it ground at him. They were civil and even that...it'd have to do for now.

 

As Bard grasped his ale tankard, he noticed Tauriel still, no, _freeze_ , every part of her suddenly tense. Her expression had lost all its light and there was a blankness that Bard remembered well from days in the wake of that battle for the Mountain, when she had first arrived in Dale, to try and make a life and home for herself having lost so much.

 

Her senses are keener than Bard's, what had she heard? A shocked-looking guard hurried over and said quietly in Bard's ear.

 

“The dwarf prince Kili, he's fit enough to fight.”

 

Of all news... It more than explained Tauriel's tension. Yes. Because at last they were receiving a visitor from the Mountain. They hadn't heard anything from the Erebor Dwarves in months, not since they'd taken their injured inside and emphatically closed the doors. Bard had sent many messages but received no replies, no help, no acknowledgement, nothing. Whether Thorin, Kili or Fili were even alive had been a mystery. And now Kili turned up?

 

Bard could feel his own tension and anger mounting, and the good evening with his family cracked. Thranduil had always said a King's duties never retired and Bard should realise and act accordingly. A good night had been needed. Now, well, it would be something different. Still good maybe, for Bard and the people of Dale. Maybe not for Tauriel. A lot was about to be asked of her.

 

Tauriel was silent and her gaze was concentrated on her plate. Tilda touched her arm, whispering, and Tauriel tried to smile for her. She knew Bard was looking at her and met his gaze then, her expression composed but Bard could read the pain there too, a lot of it. He remembered her voicing it, once he had come to know her as a friend and she had come to trust him as one. It was pain he understood all too well.

 

She nodded, accepting again the burden that was being asked of her, as she had accepted it months ago when possibilities had first had been explored and discussions had first taken place.

 

“You cannot refuse a royal visitor from Erebor,” Tauriel spoke. “Your Highness, you cannot. I accept my duty, for Dale.”

 

Her loyalty was absolute. Still Tilda pressed close to her and Sigrid looked concerned. Tauriel would not back down now, Bard knew it. He was grateful, though not for the pain she was about to put herself through, for his sake, for his family and his people. Being a King was about sacrifice and pain, he'd always known that. If he could use his blood to stop more pain, to stop any Master making his children's lives miserable again, to stop another moment like the one that had destroyed Laketown, to stop the uncertainty and hurt that had followed, he would. And so would Tauriel.

 

“Await my signal before showing him in. See another plate is provided.”

 

The guard bowed away. It would infuriate Thorin, if he still lived, if Bard sent away his youngest nephew. Thranduil had proven to be more open to communication and alliance than the Dwarves, though he remained one of the most frustrating creatures Bard had ever known, and yet also someone whose company he enjoyed beyond most others. Thranduil almost certainly enjoyed being inexplicable.

 

The table was silent, waiting for Bard to speak. Truly, he didn't know what Kili would have to say, it didn't sound official – arriving late in the evening, apparently without an escort. Bard doubted Thorin or whoever was now in charge would allow the prince in Dale without a small army. Perhaps they didn't know Kili was here.

 

As much as Bard wanted to strongly send Kili away, to do so would only mirror the Dwarves' behaviour. Bard wouldn't be party to that; he would not be what Thorin had accused him of. And Tauriel was determined to see this through, no matter how she had felt (still felt?) for Kili. Bard wouldn't destroy her choice, not like others had.

 

“The Mountain has opened again and we will play host to one of the line of Durin. We will show courtesy we did not receive.”

 

There was a murmur and approving nods, they were all privy to the reasons behind Bard's words. Sigrid spoke to Tilda quietly while Bain had a hand on the sword he wore everywhere now. Tauriel gave him lessons daily, she taught many of Dale's menfolk when they weren't building. Her association with Thranduil had left her tainted to some, at first, but others had seen her draw her bow on her king, refusing to let him abandon Dwarf or Man. And she had shown great loyalty to Bard since. She was, in her own manner, one of them now, a fact she had seemed faintly pleased by when Tilda had announced that line of thinking to her recently.

 

Now, Tauriel's expression was so carefully blank, one Bard was used to seeing among Elves but not Tauriel. She had come to show to more to Bard and his children, even to some of Dale. Now, well, it was understandable. She was armouring herself, about to go into battle.

 

Bard sat back, settling his anger. This was what being a King meant. The Dwarves had left him little choice and he would protect his children. And Tauriel was willing. So he beckoned towards the doorway. There was noise and then Kili hurried in, wearing familiar chain and leather. He had a couple of deep scars across his face. Tauriel did not seem to react, though Bard noticed how her throat bobbed.

 

Kili's expression was raw when it alighted on Tauriel – grief, disbelief, happiness, pain, anger. Sigrid was keeping a firm hand on Tilda and the Dale guards were standing in readiness, should they be needed. It was that sort of atmosphere already. What had Kili been told about Tauriel's fate? In some shades of his heart, Bard was glad.

 

“Master Durin, you're welcome in Dale,” Bard said, breaking the silence, especially as it looked like Kili was about to speak to Tauriel. “We wondered at how the Mountain fared when our messages went unanswered.”

 

Kili managed to look away from Tauriel. He wore the look of a very thirsty man, confronted by a lake.

 

“Yes, I...Yes, my Uncle is awake now but is still healing. While he was sleeping, we couldn't open the gates. Fili is wearing the crown.”

 

Couldn't or wouldn't? Why had Thorin's state meant the Mountain had stayed closed even to messages? And why was Kili here now? Bard's anger simmered, his children's eyes were rivetted to Tauriel and Kili. No on seemed to dare breathe.

 

“You'll eat with us, Master Durin?”

 

Kili looked surprised but a plate and cup was provided opposite Tauriel. Tauriel herself met Bard's gaze, her expression tinged with so many emotions but resolute. Sigrid began to converse with Tilda and sure enough, talk began in murmurs around the table, providing cover while no doubt ears remained sharp. Bard's jaw was tense but he still spoke to Kili.

 

“The gates are open to the Mountain, your king and I should meet. Thranduil will be here before season's end.”

 

Kili managed to answer, “Yes...yes. Fili wants to see alliances set. Thank you, my lord.”

 

Kili's attention was not well kept throughout the meal, the mood never recovering to what it had been before. Bard held firmly to his temper, Sigrid met his eyes. She was seen by many in Dale as a leader now, organising much in terms of laundry, sewing and food, crafts that had kept the people of Dale well and comforted, close to content even. She was so young, too young to bear a leader's mantle, but she was strong still and growing stronger and more like her mother every day.

 

Tauriel kept glancing at Kili but never for longer than a few seconds, as though she wasn't sure he was real, as though she could not stop checking. It wasn't all false. Bard drank deeply from his cup.

 

Once the meal was finished, Bard turned to Tauriel, “You will accompany Master Durin to the edge of Dale.”

 

He made it a question, though the answer was already set, and Tauriel bowed her head deeply, “I will, my lord.”

 

Of course she would. Bard turned to Kili whose eyes were shining, “You're welcome to return, Master Durin, you and your brother. I'll send word of Thranduil's return.”

 

Kili got to his feet and bowed to Bard, “And we will send you an answer, the ravens have returned to Erebor. Thank you, for the meal, my lord, and the kindness of your company.”

 

Hmmm, he was aware then, of what might have been suffered in Dale, the effect it had had. Did he know how the people of Dale had felt, abandoned by the Mountain once more? The Elves were in alignment with Dale now, a true weight off of Bard's heart. But the Mountain, it was on Dale's doorstep. It was a greater weight still. And Bard was approaching it differently this time.

 

Tauriel rose to her feet and addressed Bain, “I give you my duty.”

 

Bain nodded seriously, he would stand as his father's guard now. He was young still, always would be in Bard's mind. But Bain was growing too. Like Sigrid he was looked to, he held a sword. He had used it. He was learning at his father's side how to be a king.

 

Tauriel's gaze, when it rested on Bard, remained resolute and pained, for Kili's sake maybe. Bard missed his wife, he always would, but he was left with the goodness of memory, not the abandonment that Tauriel had been wreathed in for too long. It would fuel her now, he was sure, though the pain would remain.

 

Once Bard had nodded towards her, Tauriel swiftly left the room, Kili hurrying behind her. Bard beckoned one of the guards.

 

“Keep a watch on Master Durin. Let yourselves be seen.”

 

The guard nodded, “At once, my lord.”

 

Bard gazed around the table at his family and friends. They were all looking to him still. He did not have the words for how he felt but he saw in their expressions their satisfaction with events. The Mountain's closing, it's silence, it had grown bitterness in his people, in him too. He couldn't let it consume him entirely though, no matter how tempting it was. He had spoken to Thorin after all.

 

“Thank you, for your work in Dale. It will continue, with and without the Dwarves.”

 

There was a cheer at that and the group began to disperse. Sigrid, Tilda and Bain remained though. Tilda looked unhappy.

 

“Where has Kili _been_ , Da?”

 

Bard shook his head, his own temper not much cooled, “Healing, I suppose.”

 

Bain gripped his sword a little tighter. “For all these months? And now he comes?”

 

Sigrid looked worried, “We don't yet know all the ways of Dwarves.”

 

“Thranduil says their ways are unseemly and greedy.”

 

That was the politest Thranduil had been about the Dwarves, because the children had been present. Bard tried not to dwell on how much he missed Thranduil and responded.

 

“As you were before taking last evening's watch, Bain. Sigrid, take Tilda home, tell anyone that calls I'm not to be disturbed until I'm home again. I'll meet with Tauriel.”

 

Tilda hugged Bard, her little hands clenched in fists, “For Tauriel too.”

 

Bard smiled against her hair, “She'll be gladder of the gift from you.”

 

Sigrid leaned down to kiss his cheek. Truthfully the responsibility she carried now wasn't new. She'd carried such a weight with her since her ma had died, though Bard wished she hadn't had to. His struggle through pain, grief and providing for the family hadn't allowed such a boon and Sigrid had rarely complained. She'd explain to Tilda what was to happen with the Dwarves.

 

His boy was growing up too. Bain remained where he was, sat beside his father, sword in hand, “I won't go until Tauriel's back. It's my duty.”

 

Bain took his duties very seriously. He was training to be a warrior and a king, though he thought the duties sometimes dry when it came to all the talking and letters. So Bard nodded, watching as his daughters left the hall hand in hand, heard them talking to the guards. Bain was glowering, his jaw tight. He hadn't even finished his dinner and it was a few days yet until the next run of supplies would arrive from Mirkwood.

 

“He let her think he was dead.”

 

“Could be he didn't have a choice,” Bard raised a hand slightly to stop Bain from cutting in. “I don't like it either. Tauriel's made her choice with this.”

 

At that moment, Tauriel herself entered the hall and nodded towards Bain, “My thanks.”

 

Bain nodded back and got to his feet, grabbing up his plate, not as abandoned as it first appeared. He still gripped his sword though and spoke his piece to Tauriel.

 

“Are you gonna see him again? Like proper?”

 

“Bain,” Bard warned, quiet but definite.

 

Bain didn't apologise and didn't wait for an answer, leaving the hall with very bad grace. Bard could feel his own jaw tightening; he hadn't been alone in losing any good feeling that the evening had formerly contained.

 

Tauriel's hands were the closest to fidgeting that she ever reached; a proper sign. Bard drank more ale. He wasn't going to demand every detail; he knew that Tauriel would tell him what he needed to know. She took her duties very seriously.

 

“He has been awake for some months. And the Mountain has been closed, as decided by their council, so that they could decide how Erebor would exist if their King died there.”

 

Bard nodded, true there was turmoil enough in Erebor without adding other races overrunning the Mountain, demanding gold. But Bard doubted that Kili would have resisted finding a way to leave if he'd truly wanted to escape for Tauriel's sake, like he apparently had tonight. And the Erebor council, who were they? Who had been glad to shut out Man and Elf?

 

“They got my messages?”

 

“They did and thank you, for your respect. They would like to accept an alliance with Dale.”

 

“They would.”

 

Tauriel's mouth wore a ghost of an expression. “They would prefer it if Elves were not involved.”

 

Of course. Tauriel was composed though clearly drained by the evening, by an encounter with a Dwarf thought far from her reach. Of course she was. Bard pushed a tankard of ale towards her, not that man-made stuff was ever strong enough to make a difference to an Elf. Thranduil was always amused by Dale's efforts.

 

Tauriel took a sip, her expression more solid now, her posture a hint more relaxed. She was prepared, ready and dedicated still to the cause, without any visible regret or concern – she would be eyes and ears for Dale inside the Mountain, even if it hurt to be so close to Kili. Even if she ultimately chose to court and partner him, she had sworn already that her first loyalty would remain to Dale. If it came to it, she would leave the Mountain for Dale. It was a huge promise but she had sworn on her sword, on Bard's family line, which she had also sworn to watch over for as long as she lived.

 

Her loyalty was a gift and Bard, he was forever grateful for it. His children were more precious to him than anything and Tauriel's bond with them gave him ease, even as he faced Dwarves and angry Men and disapproving Elves.

 

“I don't dream of the Mountain anymore,” Tauriel said after a long moment. “I dream of the Greenwood and of times that won't be before me again. Perhaps Kili was such a dream also.”

 

Tauriel's gaze so firm and decided, “Dale is my home. I will not fail it.”

 

Bard knocked his tankard against hers, his own gaze just as firm. “I know it. And I'm grateful. What you've been asked is more than a sacrifice.”

 

Tauriel strangely did not look pained, only resolved. Perhaps seeing Kili again had firmed up the plans Dale's council had made, made it all real and true. Perhaps she'd seen something in Kili that had only confirmed her path now. Bard pressed a hand to the necklace he wore – a gift from Greenwood's King.

 

“It is mine to make,” Tauriel said simply. “If this will be war again, we will be ready.”

 

They would be, in the Greenwood and in Dale. Thranduil had already spoken of the cracks that existed between Dwarves of the Iron Hills and the Blue Mountains. There was much the Men and Elves could do to ensure survival and prospering. Bard would do so; he could not see his children starve again, digging through dirt and fire, scared out of their skins. Or their children to come. He would not. Neither would Tauriel or Thranduil.

 

Tauriel grasped her tankard again and drained it.

 

_-the end_

 

 


End file.
